


Cracks in the Crystal Ball

by sphinxxx



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (in later chapters), A little angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lucio Is An Asshole, a little fluff, a little smut, but he can be rather sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14987144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinxxx/pseuds/sphinxxx
Summary: Phenice is a time magician with a weakness for mysteries. Since she’s always been an outsider and attracted to the extraordinary it comes with little surprise – at least to herself – that the place she feels most at ease is the abandoned wing of the deceased count. She wants to solve the mysteriy around his death. It’s a pity her magic abilities aren’t working very precisely. Still they give her what she more an more desires: Brief glimpses of Lucio‘s life, an impression what kind of man the count has been and fragments of her own forgotten past.





	1. Chapter 1

 

> **~Irony, irony, this hate and love, hate and love**  
>  **What it does to me, what it's done to me.~**

[ “Crystal Ball”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw8s4kmYhRQ) \- P!nk

 

_“You’ll be back. They always come back.”_

The creature had been right – the ghost, phantom, spirit or whatever had remained of Count Lucio, the formerly radiant ruler of Vesuvia. She granted him this small gratification. There was probably not much left for him to enjoy.

Phenice wandered the empty, dark hallway. The cold white shine of a small magical light illuminated her way, drawing long grotesque shadows across the walls.

Her fingers brushed over the rugged surface of destroyed art. There was this strange fascination with the smug handsome man in these pictures, but also with the million questions raised by the way the portraits had been … altered. Empty black holes stared at her. Why were all the eyes missing? Anger? Frustration? Did he do it, because of what he had become; of what he had lost?  
“There must be more behind it,” she muttered to herself.  
What made the portraits out here different from the vivid painting in the bed-chamber?

Her fingers stroked the uneven material, wondering how … physical the apparition was … He could touch, but to what extent?

_“Can’t keep your hands to yourself, little thing? Who would blame you.”_

She looked around. Tensed. The corridor was as empty as before. Her heart beat faster.

No, she wasn’t afraid of the ghostly presence that haunted this wing. She pulled herself together. Her curiosity, her fascination was much stronger than her fear. She wanted to know what happened in this fateful night, to find the origin oft he magical fire, the reason and the person responsible for it.

She followed the corridor further. Finally, she reached the door to the Count’s chamber, opened it and quietly stepped in. Her pale light flickered, nearly stifled by the thick, swirling darkness. But the moment passed and a heartbeat later the room felt normal again and … nearly inviting.

It wasn’t the first time she came here on her own. She couldn’t say why, but she always moved as if this place was still inhabited.

She would have liked the room. The elegance, the extravagance, the marble writing desk, the big, canopied bed … This room must have been extraordinary beautiful. But still everything was covered with this pale, powdery dust. She didn’t want to think about what this dusk maybe was. _Had been_.

The thought made her sick in the stomach.

She shoved it aside. The last two times her visits to the wing had been spontaneous, without an intention but to follow a strange attraction to this part of the palace. But tonight she was here to implement a little plan.

She concentrated, felt the flow of magic raise, let it fill her chest, her mind, the room.

_“What are you doing??”_

This time the voice seemed … closer.

“Nothing to harm you,” she said softly.

 _“Harm me?”_ A sound like cold laughter echoed through her head. _“You couldn’t harm me, even if you …”_

The words became blurred as well as her surroundings. The darkness withdraw, fled from a growing core of light …

The room around her was as breathtaking as expected. The gloom was gone as well as the dust. Royal red surrounded her in all its glory. The marble desk shined from the reflection of magic lights and the big canopied bed … wasn’t empty anymore.

Phenice felt her heart beat faster. The spell had worked! This was a moment long gone, a fragment of the past. Not the right one, not the one she was looking for, it wouldn’t reveal the truth about Count Lucio’s death, but it was a start.

Briefly she saw a fuzzy shadow out of the corner of her eye. _Was it possible that …_

But her thought was interrupted.

A rattling caught echoed through the room.

She went closer to the bed, undetectable to the senses of this faded memory.

The man in the bed looked worn out and weary. The room around her was undoubtedly the count’s royal bedroom, but the man in the bed only vaguely resembled the impressive ruler from the gallery.

His skin was pale and veiny; his once full and shiny hair looked sparse and messy. Phenice winced at how thin he was, his chest concave, his ribcage showing.

The coughing didn’t stop for a long, agonizing while, until it finally changed into an exhausted wheeze. His chest lifted and lowered erratically.

A trickle of red run down his chin. He was clearly in pain. Sweat soaked his forehead, his face nearly white and screwed up in an expression of agony.

He grabbed for the glass on his nightstand, his hand was shaking.

Phenice listened attentively. There were steps outside the bedroom door.

The Count heard it too. Instantly he emptied the glass, put it back and took a much more … _demonstrative_ pose.

The visitor knocked shortly and after an asking “Yes” from Lucio his wife entered the room.

“I’m sending the servants to the marketplace, do you need something, dear?” The Countess‘ voice sounded busy and indifferent.

Lucio grinned, his thin lips revealed a wedge of even white teeth.

“A bar of this exquisite dark chocolate I had at this banquet two months ago, one of these Mushroom-Thyme Pie from your homeland, maybe some cashew nuts, one of these enchanted chilled Strawberry tartlets and three bottles of the dry, oaky red. Valerius drank the last one two days ago.” He grimaced.

“You barely eat at all and your doctors say you’re not allowed to drink.”

 _“I’m suffering, Noddy!”_ he whined.

“Repeat it a little louder, darling,” the Countess said dryly “There could be one person in the palace who doesn’t know already.”

“This condition is unbearable!”

Nadia ignored his complaining and came back to her question: “I said I’d send the servants to the marketplace, not to Prakra. Some viable wishes?”

“Maybe a doctor who isn’t completely incompetent.”

Nadia sighted. “Try to rest a bit.”

“Rest? I’m locked in here, _dying_.”

“That’s the reason you should try to get some sleep.“ It was obvious that the Countess wanted to escape the room rather sooner than later. “Julian will come take a look at you in two hours.”

Nadia turned to the door. Lucio looked at her as if he wanted to add something to keep her from going. But the door already closed behind her.

Count Lucio sunk back into his red silk sheets, staring at the ceiling.

Phenice went around the bed. So the rumors were true. He really was an insufferable brat. And still she felt … commiseration and sympathy.

Lucio coughed quietly. Then more violently. He sat up again, apparently unable to find rest, still staring into nothingness when the coughing stopped for the moment.

Phenice but out her hand, to feel his feverish skin, maybe slightly stroke his face.

It was a ridiculous gesture. She was well aware that her abilities only allowed her to see, to create hollow pictures of the past, to awake the memory of rooms and places, not to really go back in time, as much as she wished she could.

Again there was the fuzzy shadow. This time Phenice turned in its direction. But there was nothing but an empty corner of the room. She lost her hold oft he memory, the darkness crawled back, devoured the scene and every fragment of the past she had conjured for a far too short time.

The room was as gloomy and dusky as before.  
A heavy melancholy had settled deep in her chest, as if she had lost something valuable.

Her eyes wandered to the ostentatious painting on the wall. The scene she had witnessed had left her with a dull sadness, but there was also … some kind of confidence in her: a confident, that her magic would help her find the truth, to solve this riddle and to visit other moments in the life of this vain, remarkable, unbearable, extraordinary count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Crystal Ball" by P!nk is such a Lucio song and no one will convince me otherwise.
> 
> I'm a little nervous. It's the first time since forever that I post a fic.


	2. Chapter 2

 

> **~I'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes.~**

[ “Crystal Ball”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw8s4kmYhRQ) \- P!nk

 

“Count Lucio …, what kind of person was he?”

Asra looked up from his plate and lifted his eyebrows in surprise. The question seemingly came out oft nowhere after the light chatter about Vesuvian trivialities and some moments of mutual silence while they both had finished their meal.

As always, Asra’s face was hard to read. He seemed indifferent, but at least his expression gave away that he obviously felt little to no sympathy for the deceased count.

“The worst,” he answered.

“I heard some good things about him too,” Phenice tried to get a more enlightening or useful reply for once. It was true though: The opinions were divided, but it seemed some citizens had liked the count, although the results of her research were sketchy at best.

“Then these people probably are easily impressed by superficiality and didn’t know him too well.”

These words made her sit up. “And you did?”

“Well enough not to mourn his passing.”

Phenice felt the strong desire to ask what had happened between the two of them or what the count had done to provoke this amount of aversion. But she already knew that Asra would evade the answer. He always did, never told her something about the past she forgot or about his own.

Bitterly she looked him in the eye. “Maybe he wasn’t a good person … I don’t know. But slowly and painfully dying from the plague …? It sounds like the worst imaginable fate.”

Suddenly Asra’s gentle features seemed quite grim and … pained? Did he feel sorry for the count? No … Phenice sensed that there was more to it.

“Asra? Are you alright?” Worried she laid his hand over his.

He smiled at her, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade. “Of course I am. You wanted to buy some herbs later on. Do you mind if I keep you company? I have to leave tonight and I thought we could spend some time together before I go.”

Phenice suppressed a sight. Of course he changed the subject … And of course he would leave her alone again …

~

It was late afternoon and the last rays of sunlight painted the world in colors of warm orange and dark bronze. The shadows grew larger, but still she wandered through the palace garden under soughing leaves. _Searching_. – Not with her eyes, but with her mind. So many memories around her … The place retained them. She just needed to listen. Her magic drew pictures before her eyes, quickly moving scenes. She let them pass by, didn’t try to grasp them, until …

She only felt it three times in his life, still she would recognize this aura out of thousands.

Curious she concentrated, aimed her magic at the memory and the scene grew clearer, more tangible, almost real. And it _had been_ real. … A long time ago.

“Come here girl!”

Excited barking, then a tall, graceful dog run towards the blond man who had called for her, another dog at his side. The smile on his face was happy and carefree when he bent down to pet the snow-white borzois.

Phenice smiled too. The sight let her heart beat lighter.

Mercedes and Melchior. She knew the two oft hem, only less … playful and docile. One of them licked Lucio’s face and his fingers run through the silky fur. He laughed quietly. “Who’s a good boy?” Melchior barked to answer the question.

_‘What kind of person was he?’_

_‘The worst.’_

Could it be? The man she saw didn’t seem terrible at all … Surely, these dogs were spoiled beyond belief, but he seemed to love them wholeheartedly.

Lucio stepped back, made a small gesture and said a word in a language Phenice didn’t know. Melchior rolled over and looked at him attentively. Again a command in this foreign language. Melchior laid down. Lucio praised him fulsomely, rubbing his fur affectionately and gave him a treat. The moment he turned to Mercedes though a servant lurched through the undergrowth and disturbed the scene.

The dogs bared their teeth and growled aggressively. The servant gave them a fearful look, then he told Lucio the reason for the interruption: “Your highness, you’re needed in the palace. Your guests wonder where you are.”

Lucio lifted one of his expressive eyebrows. “ _Guests?_ ”

The servant seemed quite astonished about this question: “The two representatives of the people who wanted to discuss important Vesuvian matters.”

Lucio grimaced. “This was Nadia‘s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Well yes, but you agreed.”

“How drunk have I been?”

“I uh don’t know, Sir.”

“Send them away.”

“But they won’t be happy to hear this.”

Lucio grinned. “Good. If they make a scene just … throw them into the dungeon or something like that.”

“But Dagan Terret and his …”

“Wait, Terret? Lucio seemed disgusted. “Just have him executed. His taste is hideous.”

“But …”

“Now leave me alone.”

The servant looked at him resignedly. “Yes your Majesty.”

Lucio turned to Mercedes and Melchior, muttering something about time-wasting idiots Phenice couldn’t quite understand.

She started to understand what Asra had meant. It was a little clearer now why he hated the count. Lucio obviously hadn’t cared about the people of Vesuvia or about his responsibilities – not in the slightest. And still she didn’t turn away from the scene, from the man who started playing with his dogs again.

Phenice sat down in the grass, didn’t want the scene to end. Of course she knew how exhausted she would be, how deadly tired when she overused his magic like this. And still … she couldn’t bring herself to let it end.

From the first days she remembered she had been just a casual observer, never important enough to truly be part of something. Because of the memory loss? Perhaps. But she sensed, that this wasn’t the true reason. Maybe it was just her fate to be alone – to watch others live their lives. Then why not watch something that made her happy for reasons she couldn’t quite understand?

\- Like the terrible count who seemed so lightheartedly happy in this valuable moments with his dogs.


End file.
